My daughter's friend apparently told her grandmother (who she lives with) that she wishes she was more laidback. "Like Tracey is." Apparently I'm 'cool' because my house is a mess and nothing seems to faze me. (Poor Grandma. Apparently she is more the 'clean freak' type. Who knew that having a clean and tidy house was not something to be admired...) The grass is always greener, of course.. or as this same kid said this afternoon. "How come your toast tastes better than our toast?" So we've coined a new phrase - "The toast is always browner..."

Given that I tend to feel embarrassed about the kids' friends coming round to my dirty, messy house, it hasn't done my self esteem any harm. Heaven knows, much of the time I don't feel like I'm getting anything right....

For example:
Last week said self esteem did take a bit of a battering when said daughter was telling me about a 'Bio Poem' they had to write at school. Bio as in biographical. (Or auto-biographical to be more precise.) She told me they had to include stuff like their favourite things, and things they feared. And up there with Daleks on that latter list was "Mum when she's angry."

Oh!

Apparently when I get cross, and yell, and bang things around and stomp up the stairs, it's scary. Though given she was telling me this with her arms wrapped around me, and the fact that she was telling me at all, I rationalised that maybe, perhaps, hopefully, she isn't really scarred for life. (And I can't be that bad, if her best mate is of the opinion that I'm laidback... Can I?)

I still needed some saving grace though, and so I asked her who was scarier when mad - me or Dad. "Oh Dad, definitely" she said without a second's hesitation.

I quite relished recounting that bit to him later. Not that it puts either of us in the running for any parenting awards...

I'm also pretty crap today because, according to Ms 14, there was nothing to eat in the house when she got home from school. Only stuff that 'tasted like cardboard'. There were crispbreads. (Lo-fat.... yep, I suppose that's like cardboard.) But there was toast! Good toast, even, so I'm told.

Hmmm... Obviously my kids don't know which side their "toast" is buttered on.

Labels: kids, parenting